Read Online The Life of Polycrates and Other Stories for Antiquated Children by Brendan Connell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brendan Connell
Ads: Link
snorting adventures of a hog. He worked in a bank, and though not rich, certainly made a decent living.
He walked slowly, erect, stiffly. A nebulous patch, an obvious quantity of female, rose up from a park bench to one side. He stopped. The creature moved on in front of him. Claude proceeded, automatically to tail, now truly savouring that flavour of smoke in which he bathed his tongue. The serpent looked back (only the slightest exposure of facial flesh); then turned, some scarf over head; throat and mouth sheltered, shadow of trees and black blankness of night.
“ Are you following me?”
“ Yes.”
A pause.
“ Who are you?”
“ A man named Claude.”
Another pause.
“ OK then. . . . A woman named Mirta.”
“ Do we need to know anything else?”
“ Negative.”
II.
And black turns piquant, red, that to the yolk-coloured light of a little bedside lamp. He made an involuntary movement back, in surprise; shuddered; his feet touched the floor.
Her breasts were distorted and flagging mounds of flesh; her skin-tone an overfed pink, like that of a sow. A hunched up beast reminiscent of an overgrown worm. With eyes that flashed hunger she scanned him, parted lips and laughed, revealing a wide pit of a mouth, spitting out coarse and guttural accents of amusement. And then she stopped; showed a tongue, like a piece of raw liver; rubbed one cheek against one of her shoulders.
“ Do you like what you see?” she asked.
“ You are disgusting,” Claude replied; securing the buckle of his belt.
III.
He had spent a good portion of the afternoon at the Caffé Federale on the Piazza Riforma; a tall beer was in front of him, a cigarette sat perched in the ashtray, a slender wisp of smoke curling from it. Many beautiful women walked by, lithe and fashionable blondes from Germany, dark, full-breasted beauties from Italy, petite and full-lipped lispers of France, and other packages of flesh mortal.
But while his eyes saw, it was not of the beauties he thought. His mind was continually pulled back to the night previous, to the repulsive creature he had encountered, who had dealt with him with such unparalleled skill.
Her little apartment, he could find his way there.
IV.
She fried sausages and served them with a cheap Barbera. He watched her as she ate, stuffed the great gash in her face, guzzled glasses of the purple liquid, a few drops running from her lips like drops of blood. And then she would grab his head between her hands, a foul gust of air issuing from her mouth as she pressed it to his, sinking a thick and hot muscle down his own eager throat.
He was intoxicated by this horrible being; thrilled when she snatched and dragged him down to the unswept terra cotta floor, undulated her coils and let him roll on her belly, sink in the suet of her body; when he felt her dull teeth sink into the sinews of his neck.
She would murmur unheard of obscenities; and her avid words exhilarated Claude like a most pleasant electrical shock; his jaw would tremble, a thick and solitary tear, like hot wax, slip from one eye. Every evening spent with her aged him a year; small folds and lines appeared in the skin around his two eyes, which themselves had taken on the dull lustre of that black mineral called coal, decomposed bodies of prehistoric beasts and plants. His pectorals, which had been firm as iron, began to sag and take on the appearance of unattractive female breasts, and when he shaved, he now always seemed to miss a spot here or there so he was never without a little stray bit of beard sprouting from some angle of his chin.
“ Move in with me; I will treat you well, buy you nice silk nighties!”
“ You already supply me with enough see-through things.”
V.
The offer of his own perverse heart on a salver constructed from his own suffused pelvic bones mere refreshment for her so fierce even often cruel with the flat of hand juggling of sharp and blunt words and curses and then letting him
He walked slowly, erect, stiffly. A nebulous patch, an obvious quantity of female, rose up from a park bench to one side. He stopped. The creature moved on in front of him. Claude proceeded, automatically to tail, now truly savouring that flavour of smoke in which he bathed his tongue. The serpent looked back (only the slightest exposure of facial flesh); then turned, some scarf over head; throat and mouth sheltered, shadow of trees and black blankness of night.
“ Are you following me?”
“ Yes.”
A pause.
“ Who are you?”
“ A man named Claude.”
Another pause.
“ OK then. . . . A woman named Mirta.”
“ Do we need to know anything else?”
“ Negative.”
II.
And black turns piquant, red, that to the yolk-coloured light of a little bedside lamp. He made an involuntary movement back, in surprise; shuddered; his feet touched the floor.
Her breasts were distorted and flagging mounds of flesh; her skin-tone an overfed pink, like that of a sow. A hunched up beast reminiscent of an overgrown worm. With eyes that flashed hunger she scanned him, parted lips and laughed, revealing a wide pit of a mouth, spitting out coarse and guttural accents of amusement. And then she stopped; showed a tongue, like a piece of raw liver; rubbed one cheek against one of her shoulders.
“ Do you like what you see?” she asked.
“ You are disgusting,” Claude replied; securing the buckle of his belt.
III.
He had spent a good portion of the afternoon at the Caffé Federale on the Piazza Riforma; a tall beer was in front of him, a cigarette sat perched in the ashtray, a slender wisp of smoke curling from it. Many beautiful women walked by, lithe and fashionable blondes from Germany, dark, full-breasted beauties from Italy, petite and full-lipped lispers of France, and other packages of flesh mortal.
But while his eyes saw, it was not of the beauties he thought. His mind was continually pulled back to the night previous, to the repulsive creature he had encountered, who had dealt with him with such unparalleled skill.
Her little apartment, he could find his way there.
IV.
She fried sausages and served them with a cheap Barbera. He watched her as she ate, stuffed the great gash in her face, guzzled glasses of the purple liquid, a few drops running from her lips like drops of blood. And then she would grab his head between her hands, a foul gust of air issuing from her mouth as she pressed it to his, sinking a thick and hot muscle down his own eager throat.
He was intoxicated by this horrible being; thrilled when she snatched and dragged him down to the unswept terra cotta floor, undulated her coils and let him roll on her belly, sink in the suet of her body; when he felt her dull teeth sink into the sinews of his neck.
She would murmur unheard of obscenities; and her avid words exhilarated Claude like a most pleasant electrical shock; his jaw would tremble, a thick and solitary tear, like hot wax, slip from one eye. Every evening spent with her aged him a year; small folds and lines appeared in the skin around his two eyes, which themselves had taken on the dull lustre of that black mineral called coal, decomposed bodies of prehistoric beasts and plants. His pectorals, which had been firm as iron, began to sag and take on the appearance of unattractive female breasts, and when he shaved, he now always seemed to miss a spot here or there so he was never without a little stray bit of beard sprouting from some angle of his chin.
“ Move in with me; I will treat you well, buy you nice silk nighties!”
“ You already supply me with enough see-through things.”
V.
The offer of his own perverse heart on a salver constructed from his own suffused pelvic bones mere refreshment for her so fierce even often cruel with the flat of hand juggling of sharp and blunt words and curses and then letting him
Similar Books
